Crazy Dream
by clair beaubien
Summary: Missing scene to "Song Remains The Same" What Sam & Dean talked about when they got sent back to their present day motel room.


So Mikey drop-kicked me back to 2010. I landed hard and fell back, but a bed caught my fall and nothing got damaged but my dignity. I already _so _did not like that guy.

As promised, Sam was already there, on the edge of his bed, sitting up, folded over. As soon as I could manage it, I was on my feet, crouching in front of him to make sure Mikey had put him all back together, exactly the way he should have. No blood, no holes, not even a scratch. Thank God.

"For crying out loud, Sam. Would you please stop getting yourself killed? I'm running out of people I can pummel into putting you back together."

It was supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be Winchester code for '_thank God you're all right, that scared the crap out of me.'_ But Sam only sighed and gave me a sad look.

"I was hoping that would be the end of it. That Anna would kill me and it would all be over and you'd be safe."

"_Don't you talk like that_." I told him. Yelled at him. "You dying solves nothing but the problem of finding decent boots big enough for your feet. We'll get this done. _Together._ " In case he didn't quite get it, I repeated myself:: "_You don't talk like that."_

He didn't answer me. He looked down at himself, he held his hands out and turned them over as though he didn't quite recognize them.

"Who sent me back?"

Wasn't that a loaded question. I took a seat next to him on the bed.

"You ready for this? _Michael._"

"_Michael? __**The**__ Michael?" _Sam sounded astounded, or excited. I almost thought maybe he was sorry he'd missed meeting the guy. "What happened? What'd he say?"

"Oh - the usual we hear from these dicks. '_Whine, whine, whine. Blah, blah, blah. Me, me, me._' You know what - I'll say this for demons, none of them ever _whined._"

Sam was giving me a puzzled, distressed look. I think he was still actually holding onto some hope that the angels we got to deal with would turn out to be his ideal. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"What about Anna? She's gonna keep trying."

"_Not anymore_." I stood up and went to my duffel. I needed a drink.

"Why? What happened to her?"

"Mikey took care of her. A real _blaze of glory_."

"He _burned_ her?" Sam asked. I could only shrug. "So - maybe she did have the right idea. If Heaven killed her to stop her."

"_Nobody_ has the right idea, but _us_. You got that? We'll find a way to end this, together. All right? Cas'll find God or we'll find some way. But _we_ do this, _our_ way."

He looked at me, and I knew that look. He was going to get belligerent or change the subject.

"What happened to Mom and Dad?"

_Door Number Two._

I really hated to have to tell him. I knew how he'd take it.

"They're OK, they were OK when I got sent back. Michael said he'd erase their memories from what happened."

"Oh…so Mom forgot about - _us_."

Yep, that's exactly how I knew he'd take it. For a few charged minutes, Mom _knew _grown up Sam as her son, and grown up Sam knew that she knew. Now, he'd lost her again.

"No, Sammy. Deep down, Mom would never forget about us. _Either_ of us."

He sighed and pushed off the bed to go to the far side of the room, farther away from me.

"You should've let Anna kill me. You'd be safe."

"I'm not worried about me." I told him.

"Then the _world_ would be safe. You're worried about _them_, aren't you?"

He sounded angry, but I knew that he was frustrated, aggravated, desperate to save the world even at the expense of himself, only he couldn't find any way to do it.

"Sammy - you dying isn't going to save me, because it isn't going to change anything. Lucifer is still burning his way through contestant number one and Heaven is jonesing for me to let Michael suit up and stop him. You can't tell me that all this time spent planning this whole gig that he doesn't have some back-up plan in mind in case a bus ever fell on you before he could do anything about it." I didn't know if that was true or not, but it sounded good. "So - you dying might _delay _things, but it won't _stop _things. So it's off the table."

Sam didn't answer. He sank down into a chair.

"Y'think Cas is OK? Think he'll get his juice back and get back to us?"

_Door Number Two again._

I had to be honest. "I don't know. I hope so."

He nodded. That kind of resigned, '_add that to the to-do list anyway' _nod.

"So - um - _Dad_, hunh?" He asked. "Dad before he _was _Dad."

"_Ha_. He had a lot of _Dad _in him already." I sat on the edge of the table next to Sam, the whiskey forgotten for now. "That '_shut up or I stop the car __**now' **_line? Classic Dad."

"Yeah. Ha. And I was beginning to think he didn't get tough until _after_ - after - he lost Mom."

"I'm thinking he had to be tough just to _keep up_ with Mom." I said. "I bet even The Great John Winchester had nothing on her."

Sam nodded and picked at the seam on his jeans.

"_He was nice." _He said all at once, like he'd been wanting to say it for a while. "He didn't even know us, just that we were family, _Mom's _family even, not even _his _family, and he was happy to have us there. He had to be able to tell that Mom didn't want us there and still he just - just -"

"Just _what?_" I prompted when Sam trailed off.

"_He cared._" Sam said, again like it was something he'd been trying to figure out how to say. "I told him how we got into hunting, how - how - our _Dad_ brought us into it when we were kids, and he - _Dad_ - he got so upset, saying how could anybody do that to kids. He said - he said - _I told him that I loved him."_

Well, that came out of nowhere.

"_You did?" _

"Not - not - _John._ I told _John _that I loved my Dad and that I forgave him and - and -"

He took in a deep breath and shook his head like he thought what he was about to say was ridiculous.

"_He cared._"

But I knew that what Sam thought was ridiculous was that he wanted to think Dad cared about _him._ And any hope he had that Dad might've carried the memory of Sam offering him love and forgiveness was burned up as surely as Anna was.

"He always cared, Sammy. The more he cared, the angrier and more exasperated - and _exasperating_ - he got. But he _cared_. He more than cared - he loved us. He loved _you_."

It took a few long moments. Sam slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

_The weight of the world on his shoulders. _

"Yeah, I know. I just wish -."

He didn't finish the thought but he didn't have to. I knew there was a lifetime, four lifetimes - _six billion _lifetimes - in that wish. His, mine, Mom's and Dad's. _The world's. _The wish that somehow _everyone's _lives could've just been _better_.

I put my arm across those shoulders and hoped it made the weight a little lighter. Time for that whiskey.

"_Yeah, me too."_

The End.


End file.
